


Nightmares

by KLStarre



Category: Skulduggery Pleasant - Derek Landy
Genre: M/M, post-TDOTL, skulduggery pleasant - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-04-03 04:05:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4085995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KLStarre/pseuds/KLStarre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war doesn't end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightmares

Dexter Vex woke up screaming, and it took Saracen Rue nearly a minute to calm him down. He pulled the taller man’s head into his lap, stroking his hair, whispering to him, over and over, “It’s okay, you’re right here, you’re you again, I love you, it’s okay…” until his breathing calmed, until his pulse stopped racing. And they sat like that in the dark, Saracen with his legs crossed, Dexter splayed across their shared bed, his head in Saracen’s lap.

Dexter was thankful for the dark, which was strange, because the dark was what made him wake up screaming.

But it also meant that Saracen couldn’t see the tears streaming down his face. The tears that he still wasn’t sure were there because of guilt or fear. Guilt for what he had done-what he _could_ have done as a remnant. And fear that it could happen again, even though the logical voice inside him insisted that Darquesse had killed them all.

Having Saracen there helped. He wasn’t sure what he would do without Saracen. “Thank you,” he whispered, hoping that the other man could hear him.

“Of course,” Saracen replied, and Dexter could tell from his voice that he meant it. So he reached up, pulling Saracen’s head down so they were face to face, and kissed him gently before allowing himself to fall asleep, safe for tonight.

∞

The next night it was Saracen who couldn’t breathe for the terror, who woke up gasping for air. Dexter reached across their bed, wrapping him in his arms, pulling him closer until Saracen’s head was against his chest. Saracen lay there, hair wet with sweat, listening to Dexter’s heartbeat until his slowed to match it.

Unlike Dexter, Saracen hated the dark. His nightmares were about those two days when he had thought he lost Dexter, when Skulduggery hadn’t even acknowledged getting him back as a priority. And it was still hard for him to believe that he _was_ back. Even now, with Dexter singing to him quietly in Irish, a soft lilting tune that Saracen hadn’t heard in centuries, he wanted to see the taller man’s face, to know that he was truly there.

He didn’t say anything. For, as much as he wanted to see Dexter’s face, he did not want Dexter to see him, shaking and holding back tears.

So they held each other, Dexter’s arms strong around Saracen, reminding him, in a way that words could not, that he was safe. Eventually, Saracen whispered “Thank you,” into Dexter’s chest, a faint muffled sound.

But Dexter understood, saying “Of course,” with all the truth he could muster, and in time they fell asleep together, a tangled mass of arms and legs and body heat.

And so it went.


End file.
